Somata
by xxxSerinaxxx
Summary: Yuuri didn't know why he was so weak and ill all the time. After his accident, his health had declined, and he had to leave figure-skating behind. He didn't know how long he would live with such a terrible health, until one day a strange man with silver hair walked into the onsen, and suddenly everything started to make sense. Soma!Yuuri, Axon!Victor Somaxon/Mafia AU
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: This story contains strange biology. Please, proceed with caution.**

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Yuuri felt weaker that morning. His frail body was more fragile than normal, and in addition to dizziness and extreme fatigue, he was experiencing an unpleasant tingling in his muscles and dull headache in his sinuses. He rubbed his forehead, attempting to sooth the pain, as if expecting the tension to be lifted by mere kneading. If he didn't know any better, he would have taken some type of antibiotic, assuming it was an infection that caused the pain, but he was well aware of his body's limitations.

 _He was very well aware..._ that's why he had left figure-skating. He was forced to leave behind what he loved doing most. Being a skater was an unfulfilled dream he would never achieve. He was only ten years old when that happened. _The accident._ It was thirteen years ago. He couldn't believe that much time had passed.

He sat down, not wanting to tire his body anymore than he had too. His parents and his sister would worry even more if they saw him exhausting himself. It was pitiful that simple things like standing up for a few moments could exhaust him to the point of fainting. He had spent so much time with doctors in the early days of his sickness, but none of them could explain what was wrong with him. All of them were confused and intrigued at the same time. They claimed his body was supposed to function in a normal manner.

There was no reason for his extreme physical fragility and weakness. Of course, if he wasn't a soma and didn't establish a somatic binding with an exterior body. Only somas were that weak. One doctor in Detroit was so certain that he was a soma and had found an appropriate axon to form a nerve-binding, that the man didn't believe him when he and his parents ensured he had never experienced anything of that sort.

Of course, the chances of a person having such a strange cellular abnormality to carry out a nerve-binding outside one's body was so slim, that being a soma sounded absurd.

It was the only thing that could explain his condition, but other doctors and professors assured the nerve-binding was such a phenomenal experience that Yuuri would know if he had undergone through such process. Somas were rare and nerve-bound only if their entire nervous system and all the cells were in danger of _apoptosis_ \- a certain death.

The fragile somatic cells, given a very stressful situation, would kill themselves, and to prevent such dangerous occurrences, in normal human bodies _terminal boutons_ would make contact with survival factor sources. For strange humans with abnormal cellular-neural hypersensitivity, the body would make a contact with an external human body. Nerve-binding to another person, striped away a lot of energy from the soma and granted all of the physical strength a given soma could possess to the axon it bound to.

Yuuri wondered sometimes, if he had missed somehow the person he nerve-bound. But that day, thirteen years ago, he was perfectly healthy and fine, he wasn't in danger, nor was he feeling stressed to even attempt such a ridiculous thing, if he indeed was a soma which he wasn't. His family kept his sickness in secret from everyone else in Hasetsu, in case someone had decided that Yuuri was really a soma and decided to take advantage of the fact.

He turned on the tv, hoping to busy himself with something and forget about the pain in his skull.

"Recently, another incident calls authorities' attention towards the laws on somas who make a very small percentage of population. By latest estimates, there are around 200 somas registered in the world. But experts argue that there are a lot more somas, considering a global study conducted last year, trying to find possible unexplained deaths, which could only be caused by an unregistered soma experiencing an extreme event and causing a neural damage in an individual axon they have nerve-bound to. Some experts believe the numbers go as high as two thousand globally."

Yuuri rolled his eyes. There was a world-wide craze over this soma thing and he couldn't understand it at all. People were arguing about it constantly. It was impossible to watch something on TV without hearing about some reference to soma. The reporter made a pause and a footage started to play while another journalist started to report.

"...A highschooler is dead after bullying his victim, who was a soma and nerve-bounded to the said bully. The parents of the dead axon demand action from the authorities."

A woman appeared on the screen, cleaning her tears with a napkin. "I just want justice," she said. "My son shouldn't have died because some freak did a strange, disgusting thing on him. They say my son bullied him. He didn't do anything bad. High school kids tease each other all the time."

The footage changed to a scene taken in a school yard where kids were chatting with each other happily. "While some of the witnesses don't agree with the side that demands soma's punishment." The reporter continued.

"You know, I don't think he controlled it or something," a young boy said, scratching his head, feeling a little flustered at the idea of being shown on TV. "I mean Tanaka was always bullying Aki. It was like he had something against him. I mean, dude it was always bad, and today it just happened even worse. They harassed him so much that Aki started hyperventilating and then Tanaka lost it. If he just left him alone, that wouldn't happen. That soma shit is like an instant karma or some crap."

The footage ended, and then the main reporter smiled widely as if something very cheerful had just ended. "We have invited an expert of neuroscience and a pioneer of soma studies, doctor Minami," the woman referred to the man sitting in front of her. "Doctor Minami, thank you for accepting our invitation."

The man nodded, politely. "Can you tell us when was the first known soma emerged?" the anchor asked her guest.

"1946, April 2nd," the man replied. "It was a polish woman named Alina Malinowska. She is the first known person with a somatic nerve-binding. She was suffering an extreme PTSD in the aftermath of the war, and some theories suggest that exterior nerve-binding is a natural evolution of human physiognomy to find new ways to survive. The doctors working with her documented that her cells were in the process of accelerated death and if not the nerve-binding, she would have died."

"Minami-sensei," the anchor nodded, not caring to go into the details of the new information. "Is there any particular way a soma body is different from a regular one or the one of an axon?"

"It's hard to say. We don't have enough data to draw certain conclusions, but soma biology is different only in the sense that it's neural receptors are less active than in an average person while a person who can be a potential axon has a more heightened receptors. If something happens to the bound soma, the pain is going to be experienced by the axon."

"So, somas are harmful?" the woman tried to clarify.

"The nerve-binding grants the axons near invincibility," the doctor explained. "If you poison a nerve-bound axon and a regular person with 10ml of cyanide for example, a regular person would die instantaneously, while axons would experience very little effects and would recover very soon. From a scientific perspective, that's a miracle. I would say axons win much more in this situation that somas, considering their health declines drastically after the connection. But of course, Axons experience the physical pain of the somas if the somas who are bound to them get hurt, while somas don't experience anything coming from the axons they bound themselves to."

"Some lawmakers and lobbyists think that this is a reason not to consider somas separate individuals, as they are axons' extended bodies. Do you consider somas to be their own people or should they be given to the respective axons, as the latter's well-being depends on the somas' health and security? As we see, there have been cases when famous people who have been somaticly bound had their somas abducted for ransom or for other reasons like to hurt the axon."

"There is no genetic connection between bound axons and somas," professor frowned. "They are completely different individuals even though they share a neurological connection. I don't see how anyone could justify making laws on somas to be perceived as a bodily continuation to a different person."

Yuuri sighed and turned the TV off. Doctor Minami was Minami Kenjirou's father. Yuuri sometimes watched his figure skating programs on TV whenever he felt well enough to leave his room. He was a few years younger than Yuuri, but Yuuri still remembered him from a local competition they both participated in, before Yuuri's accident.

"Yuuri, why did you leave your room?" Mari walked in quickly, carrying baskets of newly washed towels. She helped her parents with the onsen and ran a lot of maintenance related errands.

"I just wanted to watch something," he said apologetically.

"You should have asked me to help you out of your room," Mari said softly. "You should take better care of yourself, Yuuri."

"Mari." It was Toshiya's disgruntled voice that startled both of them. "Where is Yuuri?"

He opened the doors as he said it and then sighed seeing his son, Yuuri suspected he didn't want him to know about the biggest yakuza syndicate doing business in their onsen, but he already knew about it. "Take Yuuri to his room and make sure no one goes there. We are having guests."

Mari looked at their father, worry in her eyes. "Again?" she sighed. "What do they want from us? Why aren't they taking their dirty business somewhere else?"

She pulled Yuuri up and helped him to his room in the second floor. There was no way she would allow some stupid thugs to get their eyes on her brother. If they falsely suspected that he was a soma, which most people did for some reason once they saw Yuuri, they would either try to make him nerve-bound to them to become invincible, or if they thought he was already bound to someone else they would try to keep him to get leverage on someone important. It was no secret that nerve-bound axons always managed to become people of great status and position.

But because Yuuri wasn't a soma, she knew it would end very badly for him and for them all.

"Come, I will give you painkillers so you can rest," she told him. "It will help you with your headache. Is it getting worse? You didn't have a headache before."

"I will be fine, Mari-chan," she told him gently. "Don't worry about me."

He felt guilty that he was causing so many problems for his family.

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Okay, so I hope this is interesting and the concept of the story is clear. I wanted to try a **somaxon** story for a while and here it is. Please, tell me what you think of it. If you have any questions, leave them on the comments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Attention: This story contains strange biology and dark themes.**

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 _13 years ago_

"Yuuri, your step sequence is flawless," Yuuko clapped happily, praising her friend as the young boy finished his small performance and stopped in a delicate crunched up pose.

Yuuri lifted up his head and smiled shyly. He rubbed his knuckled tentatively with the tip of his fingers and skated towards the exit where Yuuko was standing, her hands crossed in awe and fascination. "You are going to make all the judges gape once you start performing at the competition."

"I am not that good," Yuuri huffed, blushing furiously, trying to make sure that there was no accidental misconception in Yuuko's head that he was any good and could win anything, even a local competition. He wanted to skate beautifully. He wished deep down in his heart that he did so amazingly that all eyes were on him, but he even more than to win he was scared to fail when everyone praised him to be good.

He didn't want to be a disappointment. If everyone believed that he was going to do so well and he went and let everyone down, Yuuri wasn't sure, he could look anyone in the eye.

After all, it would be a betrayal of sorts, wouldn't it? Yuuri's heart trembled lightly in his chest when he imagined the disappointment on the faces of his parents, his sister and Yuuko if he failed. He wasn't any good. "The other skaters have better programs and actual coaches," he murmured.

Yuuri didn't have a figure-skating coach. His mother's close friend, Minako-sensei was coaching him in ballet. It was always a matter of teasing snubs at school, where all the boys were playing boy-sports, he was dancing _'like a girl_ '. And despite everything Yuuri felt a sense of exhilarating relief dancing in Minako's studio. Every time he stretched, standing on his toes in the arabesque position. Or when he was performing certain steps, Minako thought he was still too young to do, things like cabriole or even double cabriole.

Once she caught him practicing advanced steps like that, she had taken them to the ice castle. At first Yuuri had thought, she was so mad, she was going to punish him by making him join the few hockey players who usually practiced at the rink.

"If you want to jump," she told him in a serious tone. "Here is a good place to jump. On the ice."

And Yuuri had fallen in love with the ice once his feet stood strong on the water-glass. And he had wanted to smash that glass under the blades of his skating boots.

"You are so amazing that you don't need anyone to teach you how to dance," Yuuko protested, tapping on Yuuri's shoulder encouragingly.

"That's not true," Yuuri sighed and then looked at the TV screen attached to the wall.

"The youngest figure skater in history to land a quad axel with a very intricate combination spin had taken the figure skating world by storm. Fourteen year old Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov had a dazzling performance just this evening, breaking records and hiking up the stakes for the future Figure skaters."

A small gasp left Yuuri's lips when his eyes fell at the fairy-like boy with angelic looks, tender silver hair and brightest blue eyes, stare at him from the screen, as if he knew that Yuuri was watching him. He was smiling and waving. Everything had disappeared around Yuuri at that moment as his eyes were glued to the TV screen. Then the interview with the boy was cut short (which Yuuri didn't understand anyways) and his performance was played, making Yuuri mesmerized, enchanted, paralyzed and breathless.

On that moment, Yuuri's heart made a strange vow, tentative wish to skate one day on the same ice as Viktor Nikiforov.

"Yuuri?" he suddenly jumped up startled, hearing Yuuko's shouting. "Are you alright? Don't space out on me."

"Did you see him, Yuuko?" he asked, still enthralled. "Did you see him dance on the ice?"

"Yeah," Yuuko nodded. "He was good. Wish I could jump so high. You, on the other hand, definitely can pull all of those moves."

Yuuri, nodded, but there was a sadness in his eyes, because he knew that Yuuko was just being supportive. She didn't really mean it. He wished he could be that good, he wished he could have been so free and easy on ice when people watched him. But his anxiety was there, like a villain, enslaving his confidence and high spirits.

He didn't feel any better a month later at his first competition. His shoulder's were tense, his heart was beating fast. He was begging to all possible deities that he could perform whatever he had trained and arranged. Minako was there, standing by his side, giving him a lecture supposedly to encourage. His father and mother were there, waving at him, while his father had dragged up his enormous old fashioned camera to shoot Yuuri's performance. As if they didn't have enough embarrassing material on him already stored in the family photo albums.

Mari was smiling too. Yuuri breathed harder. Air wasn't enough suddenly. it wasn't enough and he was going to faint. He was going to fail and they all were there to witness his failure.

He watched the performances of the others and his heart beat faster, hammering inside her chest. His knees trembled and he wondered if it was a good idea to come and compete at all. He had caught up in all the praise he had received, thinking he could actually be here on the same ice with actual skaters, while he was just an impostor, an amateur pretending to be a skater.

"You are going to do well, Yuuri," Minako said, tapping on his shoulder.

Yuuri panicked even more, hearing those words. He was going to embarrass himself and everyone else who had believed in him.

"The next skater is Katsuki Yuuri with his short program _Waltz of the Flowers_ to the composition of the same name."

The audience clapped as Yuuri stepped hesitantly on the ice. A steady, static noise filled his ears as he skated to the center of the rink. His legs were shaking. He looked at his family apologetically. Mari was holding a ' _You can do this, Yuuri'_ poster in her hands, waving it in the air as if it was a flag.

The notes of the music filled the rink and Yuuri's hands moved above his head, gently delicately, as he skated around in a slow swirl. He was getting ready for his first spin. Lifting his leg up, Yuuri felt like he was going to let go of his boots and fell down on his face. He was also worried that he was going to cut his fingers into shreds during the spin. Biellman position was generally hard and required a lot of flexibility. People looking at Yuuri's slightly chubby form gasped as the boy delicately curved his body, his blades above his head as he span around beautifully, like a flower coming to life in early spring when the snow melts.

The music melted around Yuuri's body and Yuuri melted into it. The two complimented each other and there was nothing more natural and flowing than those tender movements on the ice. There was a loud applause when Yuuri performed his step sequence he had worked so hard to perfect over the month, as he kept thinking about the skater with the angelic face who had eaten his heart.

Yuuri's heart suddenly was set free and he soared, gliding over the ice beautifully. The crowd cheered, he could hear the audience clapping in awe.

Yuuri was doing so good and he couldn't help but feel so free, so happy. And just like that, he was getting ready for the most important jump, adding speed to his skating, preparing for the perfect momentum when he felt something deep inside his gut snap. He felt that anxious bubble burst as if he was met with an immediate threat. He wrinkled his face even though his skating continued to accelerate. He had that feeling one gets when they feel like something bad was about to happen. But everything was perfect, Yuuri was doing perfect. _He wasn't bleeding on the floor like he was about to breathe his last breath._

He was soaring like a graceful swan, waltzing on the ice like it was the place he was meant to be. The shreds of ice peeled off and splashed away under the sharp blades of his boots and Yuuri's heart throbbed faster. It was as if for a moment his heart and his skating beat to the same rhythm.

His hands became clammy, his vision turned blurry and Yuuri jumped up, as the world went dark before his eyes.

The cheering audience went silent as the boy fell down and started to convulse on the ice.

"Yuuri!"

"Oh, my god, Yuuri," someone shook his body, but he couldn't really feel anything other than pain and pain and like he was about to die or go insane.

"Minako-san," it was a man's voice. "Please calm down."

Someone pried away his eyelids and he could swear he felt a strange sensation against his eyeballs.

"Can you hear me, Yuuri?" Yuuri could hear distantly, but couldn't move to respond. He felt weak. It was as if life was being sucked out of him.

"He doesn't seem to have a major injury," the man spoke. "He will be alright. Perhaps, it's the shock and the stress of a performance in front of an audience after all he is a young boy."

He felt how the medics moved his body onto the transport board. "Good thing he doesn't convulse anymore," the man said."I thought we were going to forced to give him a injection."

"What is going on with him?"

"It looks like a nervous breakdown. I would say, somatic binding if we all weren't here, looking at his performance and this sudden... blackout," the man answered. "But look at his eyes, his nerves are not responding. It's as if he is undergone a near apoptosis."

Yuuri remained immobile. He remained immobile for an entire week. Lying in a hospital bed, unable to move or utter a single word or see a single thing. It was terrifying. He could hear his mother's voice talking to him, he could hear Mari's and his father's voices. He could hear all, but he could not respond back. It was as if he had just died and his soul stayed behind to hear his family's grief.

It was only a week later that he managed to move his eyelids and stare at his mother's face. But... the colors didn't look as clean and bright anymore; everything was muted and dull. His mother cried for a good two hour, realizing he had finally come back to consciousness. Yuuri never told her that he was conscious the entire time. She would feel worse, and he didn't want to make her upset.

"Yu-chan," she hugged him tightly. "You gave us such a scare, baby. Let me call your father and Mari and Minako-sensei. She was so worried about you."

His family surrounded him with love and care and he realized he would have broke down without their love, because the world now looked grim and the food he once loved didn't have almost any taste. He somehow had damaged himself. But when days followed and Yuuri finally was discharged he realized that not tasting the delicious katshudon and not looking at the vibrant colours of onsen's ornaments were just slight disappointments, compared to what his body now was incapable to do. He could hardly stand on his own feet. He could hardly move. Being a dancer, a figure skater; it all was a lost dream.

And Yuuri cried, because he was weak and somehow the things that made him feel free and happy were taken away from him.

His family never gave up on him. They took him to all the doctors that would have them, but it was all futile, as none knew what happened to Yuuri, other than to be bewildered and suggest something outrageous like Yuuri was a nerve-bound soma.

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 **Hopefully the story seems interesting. More things will be explained in the coming chapters and we will see Victor in the following chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I hope you are enjoying this story.**

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 _Present day_

"This is not a good idea, Victor," Yakov shook his head, crossing his arms in the process, making sure the young man understood his point better with his strict body language.

A behavior like this from anyone else, Victor would have their heads, but he was the old man Yakov who had practically raised Victor after the murder of his parents and the incident that happened thirteen years ago. And even though, Victor was completely lenient and forgiving of Yakov for his constant chiding, he was also very stubborn and ready to do the opposite of whatever Yakov thought was good for them.

"You are worrying too much, Yakov," he patted the old man's shoulder. "You will lose all your hair if you continue like this."

"Vitya," Yakov warned, grumbling low. "You are being careless."

Victor's face remained calm, as a small smile graced his lips, and he shook his head. "You don't need to worry about me. I know what I am doing. I am no longer that scared, helpless child who watched his family being murdered in front of his eyes. I can take care of myself... and those who think they can stand on my way. I have plenty of inspiration about how to pay my dues to those unfortunate souls."

Yakov shook his head. "I know you want to find him, Victor," the man said with a frustrated sigh. "And believe me I want to find that son of a bitch too, but this," he waved his hands, "this is too much."

Victor didn't respond, his eyes darkened and it suddenly looked like he wanted to shutter the glass in his hand into million pieces. "When will they be here?" he said a moment later with such a cold tone Yakov hardly recognized his godson. His mood changed so quickly after the mention of the man who had left the silver-haired young man scarred that Yakov wasn't sure he wanted Victor to ever find the traitor.

The door to the study was pulled open by one of the subordinates.

"Victor Vasilievich," the man spoke politely, holding the door half open. "Dimon Artemovich is here with his men. They are a little..."

"Let them in," Victor flicked his finger and gave sighing Yakov a harsh glare.

"Right now you are letting some scum into your house," the old man grumbled. Victor ignored him.

The subordinate closed the door and then a moment later a small group of people walked in. They looked absolutely out of place in the lavishly decorated study. The leader of the group was a bold man in a blue tracksuit and as awkward as it was he had pair of leather shoes on that would have been more suitable to be worn with a tuxedo and not a sports suit.

The man looked around with disgust and then swiped the sweat on his mustache and lips with the sleeve of his jacket. "To what do we owe such a generous invitation, Nikiforov?"

Victor smiled at the man with the most innocent and cheerful heart-shaped smile that made the man's underlings stare at the silver-haired man with apprehension and wariness. "The head of St. Petersburg's bratva is curious why he got an invitation from me?" he chuckled, getting up from his seat.

The bald man's face wrinkled. "Are you playing around with me, son of a bitch?" he sneered.

"Choose your words wisely, Dima," Victor advised with laughter. "I might think you really decided to insult me in my own house."

"And then what? What are you going to do?" The man's face heated in anger.

The man's subordinates reached for their guns. "I know you are not doing so well," Victor started plainly. "Your boys got into prison last month, isn't that right? Maybe I could help you with that. I have the connections and you know it. You wouldn't be here if you didn't expect some sort of favor from me. I know people like you are too proud to walk on their two feet into some rich fuck's house. Isn't that what you think of me? Dimka?"

"What do you want?" the man narrowed his eyes.

"I want to find someone," Victor said. "He was one of your own. And he owes me something."

"If you are speaking about Sergei," the man shook his head, "Forget about it. I have personally exiled him."

"But you know where he is, right?" Victor continued.

"So what if I know. I won't tell you. I won't take him back, but I am no snitch either."

"Ahh, I see," Victor sat down and crossed his legs elegantly. "I thought you had some honor codes and such. I guess I was wrong."

Dimon stared at Victor enraged. "We do," he barked, "and not telling on someone is one of them."

"So, if that someone had cut my mother's throat in front of me it would be dishonorable for you to tell me where the bastard is? huh?"

The man gritted his teeth and looked at his subordinates who were looking for his signal, hands still holding the guns. There was a moment of hesitation in his gaze. He looked like he was weighing his options and thinking about what Victor had just said. "I want my boys out today," he spoke finally, looking down.

"Consider it done," Victor smirked. "I will call the police station right away."

The man nodded. "I don't exactly know where he is right now. But last I heard he is in Japan. I was doing a business with some men there and they told me about him. I can give you their address if you want."

"That would be great," Victor said coldly. "Thank you for your cooperation Dmitri. Next month there will be city elections, I could sponsor you, of course if you are interested. But you know things come with price."

"I am not your bitch," the man snorted and turned around. "It's just Sergei broke a rule. No woman. No kids."

Victor grinned at him, completely unfazed by the man's irritation and anger.

Yakov looked like he was ready to open the window and jump just to get away from all of the mess his godson was creating. It was a miracle he had survived after what happened and Yakov didn't want to lose him after he had lost two of his friends.

When the door closed and the men left, Victor crossed his arms and looked at Yakov with determination. "We are going to Japan, Yakov," he told the old man. "Collect everyone. I want everyone to be ready."

"I will talk with Mila and Georgi," the man said frustrated, but didn't protest anymore. There was no point anyways.

"Thank you Yakov," Victor said when the man turned around to leave. "And please make sure Yura knows nothing of this. He causes enough inconvenience for me already. That brat keeps tagging around because of Otabek."

"I don't have energy for this," he heard Yakov grumble annoyed.

Victor was left alone in his study. He circled around the window, looking at the cool summer garden. He liked to play in that garden when he was a child and now all he felt staring at was pain. The scars on his chest still throbbed as if it was just now that he had been stubbed several times and was suffocating in his own blood while looking at his mother's lifeless eyes and his father's dismembered body. As if their screams were still there, filling the silence.

He wondered how he even survived. Why didn't he die like his mom and dad did on that day? At times it felt like he wanted to be dead, and other times like this, he was filled with anger, with desire to find the man who was responsible for the hell he'd lived and personally kill him.

There was nothing else he lived for. There was nothing else for him out there. He turned his eyes away from the scenery and leaned his back against the cool window. The medals he had won as a child and teenager were still in the study that once belonged to his father. Back then Victor was a cheerful, innocent child, full of life and naivety. Back then he didn't understand how the world worked and all he wanted to do was to dance on the ice.

His mother was proud of him when he won his medals. His father never approved of his frivolous hobby. And he was right. If Victor wasn't so weak, he would have protected his family instead of uselessly lying in dirt and watching them die. But life had changed Victor. He no longer was a frightened child nor someone people could mess with.

After that day he had left behind figure skating and dedicated himself to family business, making sure to make the necessary changes to become strong enough to find the man who destroyed his family.

Many people saw Victor Nikiforov as a talented businessman and an ex-athlete who left the sport after a family tragedy that never got solved by the police. But he was more than that, and he had realized that pulling the strings of people like Dmitri Streltsov, Saint Petersburg's largest mafia syndicate pakhan, was far better than letting the fools know who he really was. Yakov didn't like it and never approved of it, but Victor found the old man's caution ridiculous and laughable.

He knew that he would never win if he never risked and surprised his opponents.

There was a knock on the door that pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yes," he called, hoping it wasn't Yura, his cousin on the maternal side. The little brat annoyed the hell out of him and Victor could do nothing but put up with the angry boy's teenage nonsense. He was never like that when he was Yuri's age. He was such a sweet kid.

The door opened and Mila walked in. She looked tired. "Partying," she explained.

"Well, I hope you are feeling well enough for our trip," Victor said nonchalantly.

"That's why I am here actually," she smiled. "I have made contact with the Japanese and the clan that Artemovich was speaking of and things seem to be fine. I told them you were interested in their cargo. I think we can talk about the target once we get there, right?"

"So, I have to buy bunch of useless stuff from them just to get to Sergei," Victor concluded. "It's fine with me as long as I get my hands on him."

Mila smiled. "I will set the preparations," she said. "Georgi is having a breakdown over his latest breakup."

Victor rolled his eyes.

* * *

 **Please leave me your thoughts on the chapter. Some major developments will happen in the next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings again for those who are reading: This story is going to get dark and will have unusual biological processes described.**

* * *

"So he is coming here, huh?" the man sitting on a large sofa took the cigarette out of his mouth and laughed hoarsely, cough joining his low laughter. "Seems like the little boy had grown up finally."

"The boss told me to tell you so," the Japanese man with bleached hair informed with a tight grimace, scratching his neck, not liking how the long-faced foreigner was staring down at him.

"Tell your boss I have an offer for him," the man smirked, smudging the burnt cigarette ash in the ashtray. The porcelain receptacle clinked from the pressure applied. "It's time to finish some unfinished business."

Sergei took out a new cigarette from the box and stuck it between his teeth. A young woman, sprawled on his lap, lit the cigarette with a small lighter and leaned over to kiss his neck. "I will send your word to kumicho."

He turned around and walked out of the private lounge, leaving the Russian behind. Sergei's smirked vanished and he pushed the woman off of him, pulling her by her hair. She stumbled down and fell on the floor. "What is that little bastard planning?"

His jaw tightened and he sucked the smoke into his lungs and then exhaled it sharply. "How did you survive after I have cut you open like a pig, Nikiforov?"

"Seryozha," the girl stood up, hanging her arms from his neck. "I like when you get all worked up."

He tilted his head and grabbed her chin, squeezing it in between his fingers. "You like it when I get worked up, huh? Stupid bitch."

She struggled in his hold, but the man only lowered his hands, wrapping them around her throat. Her eyes bulged and she started to thrash against him. "Isn't she a sight?" he laughed, looking at the others in his room, the sturdy built bodyguards and couple of other young woman who perhaps had thought to find some fun in the club with fair-haired foreigner. "And I like it when your face all heats up and you moan like a pig because you are breathless. Perfect."

He let go off her and she fell down on the floor, not being able to stand on her own feet. She choked desperately sucking in air. And before she could scramble away from him, he pressed the burnt head of his cigarette on her bare shoulder. The girl screamed in pain. "Please, stop," she begged.

"But you liked it when I get worked up, aren't you, princess?"

"Please, Sergei," she pleaded, wiping her face with her bare arm. "I will be good I promise. I didn't think about what I said. I am sorry."

"Of course you didn't think," he laughed. "A brainless bitch like you doesn't know how to think."

"I will do whatever you want," she tried to bargain for her life, after all when the man became angry like this someone always died and his wrath now was directed at her.

"And what can you do?" he snapped, bringing his head to fist handful of her hair. "Suck his cock? Or do you have secret weapons hidden your lose body?"

Her face reflected confusion. Who was he speaking about? Was there someone that crossed him and now he was angry like this? But she didn't have time to ponder over this, as Sergei's hand was gradually tightening his hold and if he continued he would rip her hair off her scalp.

"I will do everything for you," she cried. "Do you want me to seduce someone, make them trust me, and then poison them. I will do it. I can even kill someone if you ask me."

The pressure on her head loosened and she was once again set free. Sergei snorted. "You are not as dumb as I thought you were," he commented, stepping aside and giving her a thorough look. She didn't make a sound, scared to provoke his anger again. But whatever she just said had just saved her life and she was thankful, even though it seemed she was going to be used by the man in some way she didn't really have a choice to refuse.

A week later, Sergei summoned her and dragged her into one of his business associates house. A local yakuza syndicate that Sergei had a very fond relationship with and would frequently do business with. The head of the clan was an old man with receding hairline, wearing traditional gown. It seemed his men weren't happy to see her. But after a short conversation between the old man and Sergei, the two shook hands and Sergei draped his hand around her shoulders.

"You better not disappoint me, princess," he warned with a chilling smile. "My friends here will help you with everything."

He motioned to the Japanese men standing in front of them. "We are going to have an old acquaintance here from Piter*. Hopefully you will take care of them well."

"Seryozha?" she mumbled uncertainly, looking at the strangers. "I don't understand."

He cupped her face gently and pressed his forehead against hers and started to pet her hair gently. "Right, Lena," he murmured. "Viktor Nikiforov is arriving here today. You don't need to understand anything. Just bat your pretty eyelashes, grab his attention, spread your legs for him and maybe have a cup of good old fashioned hot sake with him. Give him a good time before he throws off his skates**"

"Viktor Nikiforov?" she stammered.

Sergei nodded, staring into her eyes without hindrance. "Yes, princess. You can do it, right?"

She blinked. "Then I will let you go home," he added. "You want to see your mother and sister, right?"

She bit her lip nervously. Sergei wouldn't bring up her family. She knew it was a threat. "I will do all you want Seryozha, just don't..."

"Such a good girl," he smiled, letting go off her. "I wish I could kill him with my own hands, but I guess if the world finds out that he died in a cheap inn cozied up with some dirty prostitute, I will feel better."

"Zelenin," the Japanese boss-man scowls finally fed-up being ignored. "He will be here in a few hours. If you so much want to kill him with your hands, we can take him alive. Just so you know, I want my cargo shipped tomorrow."

"Your cargo will be shipped tomorrow," he smirked. "Russian market is big just take care of Nikiforov tonight. I want his corpse tomorrow on my desk. Do we have a deal?"

"The thing is that," the boss-man narrowed his eyes, looking at Lena with disgust. "We don't need this whore here, screwing things up. I have asked my men to pull up some stuff on your boy and he doesn't seem to be into chicks."

Sergei laughed. "You think you would find articles on the internet about who he sleeps with?"

"But surely there would be at least something on someone he had been with," the man sniffed.

"Tanaka-san," Sergei drawled. "Your son is fooling around with those tv girls. I don't see articles about that anywhere. But of course, you can see this the way you want. My dear Lena just wanted to help us, right, princess?"

Lena nodded. Sergei grinned. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal," Kumicho said, shaking Zelenin's hand once again.

And then Sergei left and Lena knew that she wasn't most likely going to survive the night. She was as good as dead. The boss-man motioned her to come close and she walked up to him, legs shaking and body almost falling. "I hope you like hot springs, girl."

He turned to one of his subordinates. "Go tell the owner to make the place free for us tonight. Tell him, he will keep paid well to keep his mouth shut and if he thinks not to we know where to find his wife and daughter. Tell him we are going to have some guests tonight."

Lena trembled. "Prepare the cyanide capsules."

And then she was dragged out and forced into a car until they arrived at a beautiful Yutopia onsen. She had been there once or twice when Sergei gave her a day off and she came to relax there. But now she was sure she wasn't going to relax even a little bit.

* * *

* _Pite_ r is a Russian slang for Saint-Petersburg

** _Throw off or drop one's skate_ s is a Russian idiom (отбросить коньки) that means to die.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am sorry for the late update. I was busy with work. :(**

* * *

Victor knew that something was off the moment his private plane landed in the small airport. The airfield was not suited for commercial flights thus Victor's company had contracted them several times for the employee flights, although Victor never personally traveled to Japan. A group of people were waiting outside the runway. There were dressed in uniforms and while some of them were seemingly busy with work, the intense way they measured Nikiforov didn't fool the man.

He smiled at them and waved in greeting. That went as expected. The group looked perplexed and immediately turned their attention away from Victor. Old man Yakov would have given him the look if he was there, but he had to stay behind to take care of the company affairs and also look after Yura, who was getting more and more unbearable these days that Victor was seriously considering sending the little brat to military school, just to trample those violent tantrums he was throwing. The blonde child had been giving Victor headaches recently.

"Mila," he spoke, gesturing towards the men with a slight tilt of his head.

"I will take care of it," she smirked, breaking away from the group of men and walking towards a car parked in the corner, her thin stilettos ticking against the asphalt. Her red hair was shaking in the air like the flames of fire.

They turned into the corner and took their cars. Georgi slumped down next to Victor like a corpse and started to actively stalk his ex's twitter. Victor rolled his eyes, but didn't make a comment. Georgi had obsessive compulsions towards his girlfriends and this had been a thing in the past. It was something Victor could never understand. He felt nothing towards anyone. Many had thrown themselves at him, but he never expressed any interest. It had concerned Yakov so much that the old man had annoyed him with _you should see a therapist_ nonsense.

He had no desire towards anyone which Yakov considered unhealthy, but it made perfect sense to Victor. He felt nothing when he slept either with women or men. The process felt mechanical and emotionless. Part of him knew that Yakov feared it was his response to the traumatic experience he had on the day he nearly died. He also knew why would Yakov would think that. What happened on that day had poisoned him so deeply, he still had nightmares.

What happened to his mother had nothing to do with it...

Victor swept back his silver bangs and looked through the window into the darkening town's cozy scenery. He scowled. Sergei must have enjoyed his vacation in this remote Japanese town, but that was about to end. The people in the streets stared intently at the passing cars that were too fancy to be ignored in a small town like that. For a short moment Victor regretted for not putting more thought into how to present himself in the town, but then he decided that it didn't matter either way. Once he fund Sergei, he would fly back to Russia. The small town will forget him, so will the mobsters he was going to do business with.

The Japanese had set the destination of their meeting in the towns hot springs, which Victor assumed was their hotspot for criminal activity. He glanced at Georgi, but he was neck-deep in stalking Anya's, or Nastya's or whatever the heck that bitch's name was, Instagram.

"Stop drooling, Gosha," he teased. "There are plenty of others out there who'd like your attention."

"But Anya is the only one," he took a dreamy deep breathe. "She will realize that there is no man in the world who is better suited to be by her side than me and if there is such man, I certainly will make sure to kill them to be the sole one suited to be with her."

Georgi's craziness didn't bother Victor at all, in fact, he found it a little amusing at times, especially when Georgi started to entertain ideas of murdering his lover's potential suitors. Though, Georgi was far from stopping just at entertaining the ideas of murder, he was also very keen on carrying out said ideas. Last time Victor had to bribe the police chief to have the evidence against Georgi disappear, because the maniac had strangled to a man who had dared to date Anya after she broke up with him. Thankfully, the man was fine and was super happy to receive a brand new car to forget everything and move away.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Victor reached to pull it out. He sighed once he realized it was Yakov who was calling him. For a second, he thought of hanging up the call, but the old man would get even more persistent and annoy Victor later on.

"Allo*, Yakov," he said in a happy voice.

"That little brat has packed his things and ran away from home, right from under my nose and it's all your fault. He is behaving exactly like you. I have no idea where he went and Lilia's blaming everything on me," Yakov screamed into the speaker, making Victor pull the phone away from his ear.

"Calm down, Yakov," Victor told him calmly, slightly bothered that the old man compared him to his cousin. He had never behaved like that. He was an angel of a child. "Are you speaking about Yuri? Did he ran away from home again?"

"Yes," Yakov yelled like it was the end of the world. "And I am calm. Lilia is worried about him and you are not even here."

 _That little brat._ Victor took a deep breath and continued in his cheerful tone. "Don't worry about Yura, I will speak with him sternly once I am done with my business here. Try contacting Altin, maybe he just went to hang around."

"I already did," Yakov grumbled. "He isn't anywhere. I have sent some of the security to find him, and Otabek is looking for him as well. You too are going to drive me to an early grave."

"He will show eventually," Victor sighed frustrated. "I am afraid I need to end the call. It's time to meet the Japanese."

"No, you need..." Yakov screamed from the other end of the call. "Victor! Vitya! Don't hang up!"

The car pulled into the driveway and parked in front of a building that had large sign on the top of the gates announcing it as Utopia hot springs. Victor hang up the call. The driver opened the door for Victor, and Victor smirked when he noticed the rest of his staff park right by. Mila had taken care of the business and was back right in time.

"Welcome, Nikiforov-san," the Japanese greeted him with slight bow to which he responded accordingly with his own bow.

"Thank you for having me, Tanaka-san," he smiled politely while scanning his surroundings. Mila shot him a look and shook her head. Victor's face changed for a moment, expressing strange rage, but very quickly, he turned his head around to look at the yakuza gang with his charming smile. "I hope our collaboration will be fruitful for both sides."

The kumicho sporting traditional Japanese attire hardly suppressed his snort at the Russian's words. It was obvious they weren't exactly happy to have Victor there. Whatever promoted them to accept the offer Victor's company made must have been anything else than establishing cleaner routines for their business to progress. There must have been some strong ulterior motives behind their decision to accept Victor and it made him apprehensive. Nothing showed on his face, of course. He was evidently better at controlling his emotions and facial expressions than the family head of the yakuza gang.

"Why don't we go inside, Nikiforov-san?" a man with pair of thick-framed glasses, dressed in an over-sized suit interfered, pointing at the building. "I am Tanaka-san's lawyer, Watanabe Yuta," he introduced himself with a deep bow.

Victor nodded and followed what suddenly seemed to be a trap. He had a strange feeling about this. The building was quite old. There was a middle aged plump woman scuttling across the yard, taking boxes of what appeared to be newly delivered produce into the building. The moment she turned around at the sound of the newcomers' footsteps and glanced at Victor, she panicked and dropped the box on the floor.

Something was happening inside this building. Victor glanced back at Mila. She met his gaze and nodded. Georgi seemed to be on alert too. A young woman with dyed, spiky hair ran up to the woman and helped her with the box. She avoided looking at them though and rushed to pull the woman away into the building.

They were guided inside and were seated. The decorations were traditional and Victor glanced at everything with interest. The plump woman soon showed up bringing food for them and hot sake. The food was amazing. He wondered if the Utopia was run by Tanaka's gang. The woman and the man working seemed frightened by both Tanaka's men and Victor.

Soon the tense atmosphere eased, as the food and drinks were consumed, loosening everyone's inhibitions. The conversation on the business deal were curt and Victor was agreeing to most of stipulations, not really caring about the slight money loss as a result of buying something for what he had no use, as long as he could build a trustworthy relationship and have these men owe him something, he could get to Sergei.

"Hot baths here are amazing," Tanaka's lawyer smiled, gesturing towards the doors that led to the rooms. Both Georgi and Mila expressed interest in trying out the baths. Victor wanted everyone leave so he could have a private conversation with the kumicho. When everyone left and Victor was alone with the man, a young woman suddenly appeared uninvited and set herself by Victor's side, filling drinks for him.

"I hope this little gift will remind you of home and will make you feel like home," Tanaka murmured, gesturing towards the girl, who was smiling sweetly at Victor.

Victor smiled, internally amused and a little annoyed that they found some whore to play with him as if he cared for that sort of thing. Did they think that he would cross half the world and go to Japan and spend his time with some stupid prostitute?

"My name is Lena," she smiled, filling Victor's cup with more hot sake. Her hands traveled to Victor's thighs and his eye-cold blue eyes following her every move like a hawk ready for an attack.

"Get the fuck out of here, suchka**," he whispered into her ear with a smile on his face, pretending to caress her cheek. Lena paled at once and moved slightly away from Victor, but then her eyes met the way the Japanese mobster eyed her and she paralyzed in place not daring to as so much to breathe.

"Isn't my gift to your liking?" Tanaka smirked as if happy that he was right about Nikiforov all along when he told that damn idiot Zelenin not to have some stupid whore getting tangled in the affair of sending Nikiforov to say hi to his parents.

"That's very generous, Tanaka-san," the man with iciest eyes gave the Japanese the warmest smile. "I..."

The words froze in his lips and he momentary forgot what he was even planning to say when his eyes got glimpse of a young man moving gracefully.

"Who is that?" Victor pointed at the man. He looked so frail, so fragile and so pretty.

* * *

 ***алло́** (allo) is a Russian interjection used when answering the phone.

** **су́чка** (suchka) little bitch, diminutive of the word suka (bitch).


End file.
